A/N: My apologies for the wait; as those of you also following Loyalty's Destiny may have already read, I was out of commission for some time with bronchitis. It's amazing how little you want to sit up and do when you're coughing your entire chest cavity inside-out. But that is THANKFULLY over with. Here is the final installment, now that I've tweaked it enough that it doesn't feel so hoaky. Healthy layer of cheese, though. Enjoy!
Arthur paced the clearing nervously. He couldn't believe he was doing this, right under his father's nose. It was insane! But he was desperate. Gwaine, and surprisingly Lancelot, were covering for his absence from the castle. He was beginning to wonder if Lancelot somehow knew—or at least had an idea—of the situation. The knight had always been a close friend of Merlin's.
Merlin. Every effort to get through to his servant had resulted in some version of emotional breakdown, usually ending in one of them having to knock him out, medicinally or otherwise. His wrists had endured more damage in the past three days than over his entire captivity, particularly in the episode when he had tried to take an herb knife to the 'manacles' (much more yielding linen bandages, in fact). And according to Gaius, sheer stress could be just as dire as any illness. Especially if the person was already in a weakened state. So Arthur stood there, in the middle of the night, about to face something he had thought long dead.
Speaking of Gaius, the aging physician materialized on horseback out of the darkness of the trees. He was alone.
"What's happened?" asked Arthur, voice quite a bit higher than intended or liked.
"Gwen is on her way with him," Gaius placated. "It took a bit to get him to cooperate, so I figured I'd best go on ahead and get started." Once on his own feet, he proceeded to empty his saddlebag and set up the contents. A brass plate and bowl, several candles, a vial of powder, and a carefully bound piece of fabric were arranged in the grass. Arthur felt his heart go wild.
This should be wrong. Beyond wrong. Letting Gaius perform magic—to summon a creature Arthur himself had supposedly killed, no less—was committing treason on both their parts. Arthur wanted so badly to just be able to trust Gaius' word that it was the user, not the magic that made such actions good or evil. But one drastic shaking of his world was not enough to undo a lifetime of conviction. Not to mention the fact that his father remained the law of the land. Arthur still recoiled at the signs of magic.
Candles lit, Gaius poured the powder into the bowl. This was followed by the contents of the fabric bundle; Arthur leaned close in the low light to see what it was. A lock of charcoal black hair. Then Gaius lit the end of a twig picked out of the grass, and tossed it in as well. The strong smell of incense rose into the air. Last came the strange, chilling words. Words of the Old Religion.
When the physician was finished, nothing stirred in the clearing except a light breeze.
"You're sure it worked?" Arthur ventured.
"There is no guarantee, Sire," admitted Gaius. "While I personally know Kilgarrah, and the spell is supposed to let me call him on Merlin's behalf, I am no dragonlord. It's tricky business, trying to command a dragon."
"I still can't believe…did Merlin ever know? When we went to look for Balinor?"
Gaius sighed heavily. "I did tell him, right before you left."
"God…for once, I agree with him calling me a prat…I must have sounded so heartless…"
"That was then. You're both very different now."
"Tell me about it. Just doing this is completely different."
The snort of a horse caused both of them to spin around. Gwen emerged into the moonlight, gently leading a second horse topped by a hunched figure with black hair. Merlin furtively took in everything about his surroundings. By his expression, he knew where they were, but Arthur's presence kept him on edge as to why. Gaius walked up to reassure him.
"It's alright, Merlin. This is just a meeting of friends."
The tense man followed the prompting to dismount. A large, shadowy blotch darkened one side of his forehead where Gwaine had knocked him out the day before. Simply an accidental reaction. Merlin had tried to wrestle him for his sword in his panic. No permanent damage done. Before anyone could get further, however, a great wind buffeted the entire clearing. Arthur ducked. The horses bucked and squealed as a huge shadow blocked the moonlight. Every inch of the situation screamed fight—the claws longer than daggers, the hard-as-steel scales, the spiked tail, the catlike teeth. If cats grew to the size of the castle stables.
For the first time since his return, Merlin was the least nervous of the group, though that only meant so much. Gwen clung to the horses' reigns like lifelines. Arthur kept his hand on his sword. And while Gaius bowed in greeting, his movements were stiff with apprehension. The Great Dragon surveyed the scene.
"Well, I have to say I did not anticipate being summoned thus, even after years of silence," it purred. Yes, purred. A quiet rumble from its armored chest that Arthur would not have thought possible for its girth. The glowing eyes came to rest on Merlin, who was picking at the worn bandages on his wrists. Gwen snatched the offending hand. Was it just Arthur's imagination, or was the dragon sad? "Oh, young warlock, what has become of you?"
Merlin ducked his head further in shame.
"Black market dealers, I'm afraid," Gaius stepped up further. "They captured him in the forest, Great One. Discovered his abilities, and used them for their own ends. For three years, he was trapped with enchanted manacles. They must have cut off his contact with you."
At this comment, Merlin stuffed his wrists beneath his open jacket.
The dragon fixed him with a protective look. "A heavy burden to live with. However, not an impossible one. What's past is past. It should be remembered and heeded for its lessons, but not dwelt upon with guilt."
"What if some things can't be forgotten, or remedied?" muttered the desolate young man.
"Tell me, were you at any point swayed by their demands?"
"It didn't matter in the end…nothing I did prevented their twisted schemes, again, and again…"
"You were an unwilling pawn, Merlin. That made you very different from them."
"But I couldn't stop! So much for 'the great Emrys'...people were hurt because of me, what I am…"
"And if you resign yourself to those thoughts, then they won!" Arthur blurted out. Everyone except Merlin turned to look at him. He tried not to feel on the spot. "Sometimes horrible things go on in the world. But you have to keep going, keep fighting, no matter what. If something bad happens, you charge back at it. Drown it out with good! You don't know until you try, right? That's what you told me once, hiding out in that cave from Morgana. You told me we hadn't lost unless we gave up. And we succeeded in the end! Come on, you have to be the most purely good man I have ever encountered. You can beat this!"
The dragon dipped its head low. "Come here, Merlin."
Merlin stumbled forward. When he reached the huge reptilian face (which was nearly his height on its own), the dragon's wings folded down to obscure them both. The purring tone started up again, though this time in an unrecognizable language.
"What's it doing?" Gwen whispered to Gaius. She stroked the nose of one of the horses as it fidgeted.
"That's the Dragontongue. Only they and their lords can understand it," shrugged the physician. "Kilgarrah is not the most straightforward of creatures, but I know one thing for sure. The bond between dragon and dragonlord has no equal. If anyone can reach Merlin, it's him."
"And if he can't?" chimed Arthur grimly.
"I pray with every fiber of my being that Merlin isn't so broken…"
They watched the membrane wall before them, radiating with strange words. For the first time, Arthur took in how majestic the dragon was. How ancient and commanding its presence was in that moonlit clearing. His father would just say that was some trick of magic to lower his defenses, but he couldn't help but feel safe here. Which was strange, considering the last time he and the dragon met, they kept trying to kill each other. Why was this a good idea, again?
After several long, tense minutes, the wings parted. Merlin had sunk to his hands and knees, breathing hard. The dragon was no longer so close. Warily, Arthur snuck forward. To his surprise, the dragon actually nodded and withdrew further. Arthur was allowed to reach his shaking friend. Merlin flinched at his touch at first, but otherwise stayed where he was.
"Merlin…?"
Gulping in a deep breath, the tortured blue eyes rose to meet Arthur's. A feeble almost-smile crept onto Merlin's face as he deliberately held eye contact this time. One wobbly hand reached out to grasp Arthur's arm. "I-I…I'm not sure…so much pain, the memories…" He pitched sideways trying to get to his feet. Arthur caught him.
"Well don't go trying too much at once."
"…But I think…I can be okay…"
Arthur got them both standing. Merlin was still looking him in the eye, if timidly. Suddenly Arthur didn't care where they were, who was present, or what was potentially treason. Or what was manly, either. He pulled his lost friend into a desperate hug, laughing hysterically. It didn't even matter that Merlin was too stunned to hug back, despite his numerous inquiries about the action over the years. Arthur was simply so relieved, so heartened to see this glimpse of the man he knew and trusted. Okay, he would have to rebuild that trust somewhat. He would make it happen. Gwen piled into them, finally leaving the horses to themselves. By this time, Merlin had recovered enough from shock to return the gesture. Lastly Gaius joined them, who had more than earned a father-sonly embrace with his young ward.
"My work here is done," proclaimed the dragon above all their heads. "You still have much to do, young warlock. I will, of course, answer your call when you have need of me."
"Thank you, Kilgarrah. I will never forget this," Merlin answered quietly. They staggered in the wake of the powerful wings as the great dragon took off. Soon all evidence of his presence faded into the night.
"So, what did he do?" asked Gwen, at once excited and tentative.
Merlin took a moment to think. "He just…showed me the way out, it feels like. I was stuck in the memories like an endless bog. No matter what I did, I couldn't find solid ground on my own."
Gaius clapped a firm, weathered hand on Merlin's shoulder. "He was right. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. It was tragic, yes, but ultimately it wasn't you doing those things. Focus on what's in your true nature. What's here." His other hand patted Merlin's chest.
"It's not going to be easy…"
"It never is," mused Arthur. "Some nights it tries to squeeze the life from your heart. It feels like there's blood on your hands that will never come off. Even the most hardened warriors have those moments. You just push back harder. And you remember that you have people to help you through it. Don't let anything or anyone tell you otherwise."
More impressed looks—or owlish ones, in Merlin's case. Why did it feel so awkward to be encouraging? Not entirely sure where to go from there, Arthur resorted to clearing his throat. "Well, um, we should all be getting back to the castle to get some decent sleep. I know we could all use it. Not a word to anyone outside this group about what happened here, though, understood? This whole thing remains a secret."
Merlin stared at the prince. "What? What about my…you know? Your father would go off his head! He is still the king, and as much as I'd like to avoid dying, I don't think it's worth risking all four of us. I'll leave, go back home, stay far away so you can't get into trouble."
"You'll do no such thing, Merlin. I think Gwen and Gaius agree that it's very much worth the risk. You're one of the only real friends I have. I'm not losing you again. Not to fear, not to my father, not to anything." Arthur had to take a deep breath before his feelings got away with him again. "Now, that's not to say I'm fine with you doing magic willy-nilly, especially in front of me. I'm a bit new to this, and we do have to worry about my father finding out. But should fortunate little…coincidences keep happening when we're in a tight spot, I don't see that anything has changed. We do tend to get lucky."
A ghost of Merlin's old smile unfolded, a truly welcome sight after the past few days. He wasn't back to normal yet. He might never completely return to normal. But he was on the right path. Arthur could live with that.
"Now, I know I'm ready to go home. Anyone else?"